Reproba Semita
by Nighti3
Summary: It's been in my head for a long time, and I finally got it started. Regulus has stepped on to a long and dangerous path, but just how far away can one boy stray from what he knows? Snape is cradling him in distorted hands, while Sirius fights between his
1. Prologue

**Author's Note: **Hopefully the intended plot will become clear as chapters progress, but this is centred around Regulus' conform with the Dark Side. Some is taken from implied canon, but most is engineered purely from my demonic genius.

THE PROLOGUE is taken from towards the end of where I hope the finished product will lead us. This short little entry is from the night before Regulus finally meets his future, and receives his dark mark. Anything that is a little blurred here will all be revealed later, I promise. This was intended just to give a little introduction to Sirius' worries for his brother, and Snape's possessive nature. When thinking out the plotline, the same image came to me, and that was of a suicide bomber, and how he is brain washed into dying for his God or country. These are the same blind steps the youngest Black will take, lead not by a Priest but by Severus.

**The Title: **Is Latin for 'False Path.' I had much trouble with the title, and many came to mind, but I think this fits. Forgotten ideas may come back as titles for later chapters, and when I can put it into coherent words, I may reveal why my choice of title. I must here credit a good friend of mine. Thanks!

**The Rating: **Is a T purely because I don't think anyone younger would understand my plotline, and I'd hate for such a complex idea to be misinterpreted as anything less. Plus I probably will end up with dubious content later on.

And now…

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**Reproba Semita **Prologue

_**Regulus,**_

_I feel now as I did the first time I saw Snape drape one heavy, useless arm across your bony shoulders. You severed ties, you would not speak to me, you would not answer the letters I slipped into your bag. I cannot help but try to throw away fourteen years as you have done so readily, but for me, it is so much harder. I watched you grow, I was there when your first word was my name. Now there is nothing. You, so determined to erase the memories, have erased my very existence. You use Mother's insults in the corridor, you have confided in fellow Slytherins my secrets. You use my misguided smiles against me, gazes gone astray. The same blood flows in our veins, that which you would have spilt over stone floors as if it were nothing, if only to receive a pardon from Snape. What does he offer you, Reggie? Courage? Belonging? Incorruptibility? Is that what he promises? These things are impossible, and he has blinded you to them. If only you would open your eyes and see the truth, suffer one moment of pain for a lifetime of understanding. _

_I did._

_I would do anything for you, if only you would let me. Convenience has given you 'friends,' but ask them if they would put you before themselves. Ask them how much you truly mean, and look them square in the eye as they lie to you. I do not know what piece you play, but you are part of a grander, terrible puzzle. Of that alone I am sure. I could always tell when you were scared. As a child, you would touch your hair, screw up your hands in your clothes and cry until I came to hold you. I cannot wait forever, Reggie. My arms are only so long. _

_This is so much deeper than appearances. You feel accepted now, you feel proud to walk down a corridor surrounded my mindless drones, but how long will this last when they lead you to a shadowed corner? How long will it be before Snape asks you to break your own morals for him? Do you still even process any? When James jinxes him, he uses you as a weapon. He knows what I would do for you, and he uses you against me. I can no longer touch him for fear of inadvertently harming you. He has you for a shield, and he will send you to the ends of the Earth while you hang on his every word. He's not so special. The year you arrived at Hogwarts, he twisted upside down for the world to see his dignity. Don't you remember? You laughed at your tormentor, and you can laugh again if only you accept his weaknesses. The others he has as followers are merely pawns like you. They mean nothing._

_Let me save you from your own demons. This is the last time my hand reaches out over the void. If I hear nothing more, I'll accept your fate as I accepted mine. I am the Blood Traitor, but I am unique. You are a clone. Please, Reggie. Let me save you._

_**Sirius.**_

A pair of clawed hands curled around the edges of the yellowing parchment, ropes twisting as fingers, pulled at with firelight. Severus Snape picked out his name in the copperplate, beautifully formed with a deep seated contempt that would surely never die. The envelope, unopened until he ripped away at the folded creases, lay beside him on an oak table. His upper lip curled as he lay back in the armchair, crossing one leg over the other beneath an eternity of black robes. The clock above the mantel reluctantly struck out the early hours of the next day, its soul observer crawling with the time. Snape caressed the paper below him, his thoughts somewhere just beyond the borders of normal speech.

"Let me save you." He re-read the last line over and over again, until the words carved themselves into the underside of his eyelids to be read when he closed his eyes. They were familiar. He'd used them before.

Turning slightly, he balled one fist and with it, the letter. He brought the hand up to his face, his senses bathed in a clean and comfortable glow, before finally flinging it forward toward the fire. As the flames licked at ink only he had seen, he looked up at the high ceiling, above which Regulus Black slept peacefully in his bed.


	2. A Distorted Hand

**Thanks to my reviewers and betas, I owe you one!**

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**Chapter 1- A Distorted Hand**

"Padfoot, c'mon mate." James Potter poked anxiously at his best friend's arm as it transferred forkfuls of Shepherd's pie to, and then empty ones from, his open mouth.

"Wha s'it?" Sirius spoke through a guard of potato and mince.

"There's a huge fight outside. Some Slytherin is getting it." Whatever 'it' was. "Merlin, I hope it's Snivellus. It must get a bit boring for him, to only be hexed by us. This'll give him some variety."

"But I'll miss out on my cherry pie." Sirius had emptied his plate, and was now reaching for a bowl and jug of custard. James pulled it away from him, Sirius fought back and soon both boys were covered in sticky yellow from the wrists down.

"You owe me a pudding, Prongs." Black tried in vain to furrow his brow, but broke down into a fit of giggles and flicked a cherry Potter's way.

"The show must go on, and we're missing it." James wiped a spot of custard from his glasses, and stood from the table. Several members of their house had already descended into the grounds, and he was eager not to sacrifice any more time that could be spent cheering on the insatiable hobby of causing a Slytherin the maximum possible level of embarrassment.

"I bet you a sickle it's all over by the time we get there, and then we'll only have to waddle all the way back up to the castle again." Sirius, somewhat reluctantly, slipped from under the oak and after stretching, burping and finally jogging the length of the dining hall to catch up with his friend, was out of breath as they walked out into the blinding sun of a dying September.

"Worried about that Transfiguration essay you never completed, Pads?"

"Since when have I been worried about anything I haven't completed? I get through on my good looks and naïve charm." James stopped dead and turned with raised eyebrow.

"Naïve charm? You've seen worse than half the year put together. Most definitely _including_ Slytherins"

"I resent that." Sirius took on a look of mocked pain, but couldn't hold it, and was laughing again by the time they reached the small crowd that had congregated around an unknown centre just outside the forbidden forest. It was not constructively hidden, and had obviously formed from a spontaneous spark not too long ago.

"You owe me a sickle."

"This better be worth it."

James walked ahead, and tapped on the first back he came to. A fellow seventh year with a mop of dirty blonde hair turned around, his Hufflepuff outer robe slung over his shoulder in an offhanded sort of way.

"Any good?"

"I've been trying to find out myself. Bloody first years." He gestured to the huddle of smaller students that seemed to have found the action and hidden it before anyone else had the chance.

"No common decency." James increased his tone, hoping to drop a hint that was, apparently, never acknowledged. Everyone was too engrossed in other matters.

"C'mon, Prongs. We'll wait." Suddenly, Sirius didn't want to see what was happening behind the human screen.

"You're willing to give up a cherry pie for nothing? No fear!" Spreading his arms and taking in a deep breath, as if preparing himself for a heavy lift, James began making a path through the crowd, leaving Sirius in his wake to mutter the odd apology as eleven year olds rubbed at varying parts of the anatomy with quiet looks of distaste.

James somehow managed to make a hole large enough between two heads to fill with his own. Sirius held back on one foot, running a hand through his overgrown hair, hiding his forehead with his fringe and wondering for the first time that day just where Remus was.

"Uhh." Something along those lines emitted from Potter's lips.

"What?"

"I-erm. You were right. Let's go back and catch that pie." James turned along with his mind, awakening the familiar beast of suspicion within his friend.

"Well- what? Prongs?" He had begun to trot away at a steady pace, returning only to tug at the tails of Sirius' customary un-tucked shirt.

"I'm suddenly hungry again." His tone was somehow distant, almost as if-

Sirius pulled away from him, back through the mass, jostling past bodies that seemed intent on keeping him behind.

"Pads! Pads, no!" It was too late. In that split second, he'd seen through a window. The victim whose blood had so obscenely stained the grass was not Severus Snape. His hair was the same colour, but it fell in curls rather than greasy tendrils over his Slytherin uniform. As he struggled to his feet for perhaps the hundredth time, his head turned and Sirius came face to face with those grey, unfathomable eyes so like his own.

"Pads?" James was beside him again, forcing his arm away from its fixed position at his side. Black did not struggle as he was patiently lead from the scene, head bowed reminiscent of his canine form.

"You can't do anything. Dung would have cut you up as well." Mundungus Fletcher. The newest joker in an ever-widening pack. It was a wonder he made it into Gryffindor, for he appeared to have no redeeming qualities whatsoever.

"B-but-" Sirius drifted into silence, not really sure what he had wanted to say.

"Nothing." James calmly ended the discussion, rationality having doomed the return to the castle an unhappy one. Any guilt was banished ruthlessly and time inside his head seemed abruptly suspended upon that moment, the fourth year's head turning over and over again.

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The grounds emptied shortly after the two marauders retreated inside, the excitement having finished after Regulus Black stopped getting up. His body now lay motionless in the darkening green, a stark contrast to the mess of his shredded trousers.

"Black?" A cold voice from above fell on deaf ears as a boot roughly collided with his stomach in order to flip him over. He blinked into the sun, one arm cautiously rising to shield his face from any further impact.

"Please. Anything you want." How pathetic. A member of the most noble house of Black, begging.

"What could you possibly have that is worth anything to me?" That tone was familiar, deep and disjointed as if it were rarely used. Regulus moved his arm, finally opening his eyes to look up, directly into the face of Severus Snape. The seventh year was upside down, and from this angle looked, if possible, even uglier. Regulus laughed stupidly, then winced at his mistake, rushing a hand down to support his bruised ribs. Snape sniffed in revulsion.

"Except, perhaps, yourself." Severus finished his own turn of phrase, and a queer look came to his lips. Each end rose in a smirk.

"What?" The younger frowned in confusion, suddenly scared again as his eyes darted from left to right. Snape, however, appeared to be alone, and now he bent and placed a hand on Regulus' shoulder, holding him down. He spoke once more, this time quieter, but oddly powerful it its restraint.

"Do you think you deserved what happened to you?" He spoke deliberately slowly, as if trying to get a small house elf to understand complex potion making. Regulus felt anger rise like a tide, washing over his bloody nose. He raised one hand before punching down into the cut grass. It came up with a fist full of mud and the transferred energy did nothing for the alien ball of rage that was gradually rising up his throat.

"You must not waste such power." Severus spoke as if he had thrust fingers down the younger's throat, and was now dangling the foreign object under his hooked nose.

"I don't understand." Not the emotion, not the bruises around his mouth, and not the overwhelming urge to please Snivellus Snape.

"No. No, I don't suppose you do." Nothing more was said as he rose to his feet and extended a hand down, beetle-black eyes somehow scratching away at the barrier Regulus did not even recall erecting.

"Get up."

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**A/N: **It may look a little different at the end, because it is. The first version gave too much away too soon with regards to Snape. The same rules apply, however. Please R & R! 


	3. Of Several Graces

A line of Gryffindors and Slytherins had formed down the dingy dungeon corridor outside the Potions classroom. Not that it could really be described as a line; rather a scattering of fourth years that happened to be congregated in one place. The first lesson after lunch was always difficult, but the idea of a triple lesson with Slughorn had made several students rather bitter, and numerous small scale tug of wars with text books had broken out already.

"Alright! What do you say to a spot of order here?" The bald professor stood below even some of the fourteen year olds, the thick wad of gingery blonde hair above his top lip vibrating as he spoke. A few groans emitted from the group as they warily formed a queue beside the closed door.

"I think you shall enjoy today's lesson." Horace Slughorn ignored their sounds of protest, though it was equally probable he had not heard them. The maroon waistcoat that he wore looked to be several sizes too small, and as he reached down to retrieve a gold key from the pocket he had to take a rather substantial breath in.

"If you'll take your seats and turn to page seventy-eight-" The students filed passed obediently, speculating among themselves about how Potions could possibly be enjoyable as they sat behind their desks.

"Now, now." Slughorn followed them in, shutting the door on their freedom and turning once at the front of the room. He surveyed them through prominent eyes.

"Where is master Black?" He had spotted the space beside Narcissa that would usually be filled with her cousin. Her blank look told him she had no idea.

"Went to the hospital wing, I think. He was feeling ill earlier." Rabastan Lestrange piped up with the lie he had been fed by Snape and ended the particular matter.

"So long as he copies up any observation notes. Now, this particular brew is both dangerous and perplexing….."

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"Maybe you should go and splash some water on your face, Pads. You look awful." Remus Lupin glanced upon the white face of his friend with grave worry. He now regretted barricading himself behind books in the Library at lunch and leaving the two alone. Merlin knew what they had gotten up to clear of his watchful eye.

"Maybe you ate something dodgy." Peter spoke up from Sirius' left, patting his own stomach as if needing to explain what he meant with a demonstration.

"He's mourning the pie he missed out on." James enjoyed the look of horror on Pettigrew's face as the boy contemplated life without even one helping of pudding every meal time. Remus rolled his eyes and couldn't help but feel his point had been ignored.

"Are you sure nothing happened I shouldn't know about?" The Marauders were sat around one circular table at the back of the perfumed Divination classroom, fighting the fumes and the uncontrollable urge to fall asleep. The star charts they were supposed to be reading were long forgotten, and James had joined the silvery dots on the diagram of the solar system with his quill to make new and interesting constellations.

"No." Sirius had replied with only one word answers since the start of the lesson, and now buried his head in his hands.

"Maybe, Moony, you remind him of his mother."

"James, that's-" Remus opened and closed his mouth several times in quick succession before busying himself with books he did not need to. The conversation had been abruptly ended, and his cheeks were flushed. James sat back, doodling in thin air while Sirius groaned beside him. Peter was the only one who couldn't take a hint.

"My stars look like-"

"SHUT UP!"

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Regulus Black was sat on a broken toilet seat in a stall of the boy's second floor bathroom. Severus Snape was bent on one knee, wiping excess blood from above his right eye.

"You didn't see my brother, did you?"

"No." Severus lied, reliving the sweet pleasure of such pain on Sirius' face, "keep still."

"Neither did I. Besides, he would have helped me had he been there." Regulus winced as Snape's fingers slipped.

"You have yet to learn a lot of things." He moved to continue his administrations, but Regulus pushed him away.

"What do you mean?"

"Your brother is a Gryffindor. Do you honestly think he would disgrace his own name within the house to help a Slytherin?" The younger's eyes fell. He knew the relationship between he and Sirius had changed, but the extent had never really been tested. He missed the smirk on Severus' delicate lips, and it was gone by the time he allowed the cold fingers over his cuts once more. There had been silence between them for several minutes when-

"Severus?"

"Yes?"

"You don't hurt like mother used to." Snape paused, looking from the wound down into Regulus' good eye. There was an innocence there; a potential that tempted hunger from the elder boy. Black raised his own hand to cover that of Snape, encouraging the digits to play on.

"And Severus?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

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**A/N**: It's been a while in coming, but I hope it was worth the wait. R&R as always please.


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